


Unbeatable

by husbandomail



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/husbandomail/pseuds/husbandomail
Summary: Still reeling from the sudden disappearance of your father, you decide to play along when your best friend offers a distraction. What was intended as a daytrip to a local landmark quickly escalates, throwing you out of your comfort zone— and right into the middle of what happened to your father.
Relationships: Gen | Riley/Reader, Hayato | Falkner/Reader, Takeshi | Brock/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Unbeatable

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted here before, so thank you for bearing with me as I get used to things! I haven't written anything like this in quite some time, so I'm excited to get started!

The wooden bridge bobs and sways in the water, the river gently lapping up against the planks with every slight breeze. Every once in a while a determined Magikarp leaps through the air, seemingly enjoying Splashing over the bridge again and again, until the hourly Magnet Train races by and startles all the fish Pokémon back into the dark of the river.

Alone out here on Route 32, you lay sprawling out on the bridge and watching the stars above. Light pollution spills over from Violet City in an attempt to outshine the Johto night sky. The moonlight reflects not only in the water around you, but also in the scarlet gems of the Tentacool drifting through the depths— and when you roll over, it glints off the glass of the egg incubator you'd carried with you.

The egg inside seems entirely unremarkable; the pattern across the shell doesn't look like any Pokémon you know, and the egg itself has been still for ages. A thought crosses your mind— what if the Pokémon inside has already—?

"It'll never hatch if you don't touch it, y'know," The voice and accompanying footsteps startle you. You shoot upright and look around quickly— Gym Leader Falkner is approaching, smiling calmly at you and stepping gently as to not disturb the bridge too much. You sigh.

"I don't know why he left me an egg," you mumble, pulling the incubator into your lap. "I've never owned a Pokémon. And besides, I'm worried about it. It's been—" your voice fails you at the end. It's been a long, long time since you've seen your father.

Falkner sits down in front of you, leaning forward to peer at the egg in your hands. "As long as you've kept the incubator charged, the egg will be fine. These things are designed like Poké balls; they can keep a Pokémon _alive_ without much outside influence." He taps on the glass and then looks up at you. " _Hatching_ is a different matter, though."

You just shrug.

The two of you sit in silence for some time longer, sprawled out on the wooden bridge together, just listening to the gentle waves and the chattering of Pokémon in the distance. When you were a child, you’d gotten in trouble for sneaking out to watch the sky without telling your parents; laying here now, it’s lonely to realize your father’s voice won’t echo out when you try to quietly open the front door tonight.

Falkner breaks the quiet with a sigh. “Spend time with me tomorrow.”

You don’t tear your gaze from the stars, but you tilt your head to show that you’ve heard him, and he continues.

“We haven’t had much time alone together since I took the Gym position— I have somewhere cool I’d like to go with you.” Falkner’s voice waivers a bit. He slowly drums his fingers along the damp wood you’re both laying on, until his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze. 

You let your gaze wander down to where the two of you are joined; when you glance over at him, he isn’t looking at you, but you’re sure his face is tinged a bit red in the dark.

“I’m not doing anything tomorrow,” you say as you give him a squeeze in turn, “so yeah, we can hang out again. I’d like that, actually.”

***

Falkner hadn’t told you exactly where the two of you were going— all he’d given were hints on how to dress, telling you to wear things you’re willing to get dirty. You’re in the middle of fumbling with your hiking boots when there’s a sharp tapping at your bedroom window; when you look over, a familiar Pidgey is sitting on the windowsill, cocking its head and preening as it waits for your attention. You grin and abandon your shoelaces to throw the window open.

As expected, your old friend is standing just below. He waves at you before properly knocking on the front door; you can hear your mother greet him cheerfully as she lets him into your quaint home in Violet City. Pidgey chooses to hop through your window instead of fluttering down to join its trainer.

You race through finishing your routine— if you don’t hurry downstairs to rescue him, your mother will trap Falkner in a long, tangled tale of the escapades you both got up to as kids, and you really don’t need her pulling out the photo albums. One last look through your bag— it’s not too big, but there’s at least room for a rolled-up escape rope, some bandages for when Falkner inevitably got a bit reckless— where’s your flashlight gone?

When you check, it’s not under your bed— it doesn’t look like Pidgey is snacking on it— not in the nightstand either. You pull yourself up to your full height and look around your cluttered bedroom; the glass incubator of your Pokémon egg is sitting on your desk, gleaming in the early morning light. Maybe your flashlight had ended up over there somehow…

“Are you ready?” Falkner’s voice echoes through your bedroom door. He doesn’t bother knocking, instead just pushing the door open and stepping into your room, holding his hand out for his Pidgey to flutter over.

“I’m _almost_ done packing,” you huff out. Ah, there it is— your flashlight had somehow ended up in one of the lower drawers. You shake it and flick it on to make sure it’s working. Thankfully, it lights up, and you sigh to yourself as you move to shove it in your bag. Somewhere behind you now, Falkner hums quietly.

“You should bring the egg with you,” he says. He takes a few steps forward and presses the large button at the base of the incubator. The glass surrounding the egg flashes and dematerializes, and he gently picks the egg up, turning it over in his hands. “It won’t hatch if you leave it behind the glass. I’ve told you that.”

Watching him handle the egg is strange— since you’d found it waiting on the kitchen table all that time ago, accompanied only by a note of care instructions from your father, you’d never opened the glass once. Holding it had crossed your mind on occasion, but wasn’t something you’d ever actually tried. 

When Falkner offers the egg to you, you take a step back, staring at it intently. Your gaze flickers from the patterned shell to the man holding it. He’s watching you just as carefully. There’s something in his familiar blue eyes that assures you things are okay.

You gently take the egg from him, and he smiles watching you hold it now. It’s not heavy— but you knew that already, carrying the incubator occasionally— and the shell is surprisingly warm, far beyond anything you could’ve imagined. It feels so alive in your hands. You look up at Falkner, stunned, and he just laughs at the expression on your face.

“Let’s get going, we don’t wanna waste the day.”

***

The sun beats down on your shoulders as you follow Falkner out of Violet City, but that’s nothing compared to the heat of the egg in your arms. You’re still marveling at it, the way the light glints off the shell, every dip and groove and bump across the surface— you’ve almost convinced yourself you can feel the heartbeat of whatever Pokémon is sleeping inside.

“Watch yourself, now,” Falkner says, holding out a hand to help you step over a small ledge. Once your hand is in his grasp, though, he doesn’t let go. He smiles at you over his shoulder as the two of you approach a route gate. “This place is easy to get lost in, so stay by me, okay?”

Once you’ve passed through the gate, you stumble to a halt, blinking rapidly against the brightening sunlight— whereas you’d just been among trees and lush green, you now find yourself amidst harshly-packed sand, stones piled into odd shapes, with the only sign of life being a gleaming river through the middle of this odd place. Something heavy hangs in the air, on the very tip of your tongue, discouraging you from speaking too loudly— Falkner doesn’t seem to feel it, because his voice remains strong as always.

“They’re called the Ruins of Alph,” he says, taking a few steps forward, “and I got permission from the researchers to explore as much as we’d like today.”

“. . . I had no idea these were here,” you whisper as you follow your friend farther into the mess of stone and dust. You clutch the egg closer to your chest, both out of the urge to protect it, but also for the odd sense of comfort it provides in your arms.

“Apparently they’ve been here hundreds of years— research only began recently, though.” He motions to a more modern building off in the distance, gleaming stark white among the mysterious sand and stone. Through the distant glass, you can occasionally catch moving shadows inside— presumably the team of scientists, doing who-knows-what.

Humming in thought, you let your gaze wander across the scenery again as you and Falkner continue walking; sure, the buildings may be strange, but they’re at least something identifiable. “What could they possibly be studying in a barren place like this?”

Falkner’s eyes gleam as if he’d been waiting for that question. He doesn’t properly respond until he’s led you through one of the many stone doorways on the nearest building, and then another, and then another. From the outside, the structure doesn’t look as if it should be _nearly_ so big— you keep up with Falkner as best as possible as he guides you through the ancient maze, not wanting to test your luck on getting lost in such a strange place. He stops abruptly, and you tumble right into him, scrambling to keep a grip on your egg as the gym leader motions around the room you’re now standing in.

If you didn’t know any better, you might call it a temple.

Clearly the room hasn’t seen natural light in ages— the air is damp and even more oppressive than it was before. A lantern, probably left by the researchers Falkner alluded to, hangs from an outcropping along the wall, the dim glow of the flickering flame doing its best to drive back the eerie shapes in the dark but falling very, very short. Standing in that tiny circle of light, you hold the egg even tighter and shuffle closer to Falkner, who seems entirely unbothered; beyond that small realm of safety, you can feel the room twisting and expanding far off into the distance, as if it’s still growing, rocks and pillars jutting out of the floor like misplaced shards of bone. Some vague sound rings in your ears, so faint that you feel it rattling through your skull far more than you truly hear it. The darkness at the edge of your vision hangs heavy, almost seeming to writhe and wrap its way around your lungs and squeeze your breath right out of you— or maybe you’re just having a reaction to the dust and stale air.

“Are you okay?” Falkner’s voice startles you from your daze; at some point he’d grabbed the lantern from the wall, and he’s now leaning down to look you in the eye, concern clear on his face. “You don’t look like you’re feeling well— we can leave early, if you’d like,”

Everything you’d been feeling seems to vanish as he speaks. After taking a few deep breaths of air, ignoring the taste of plants curling across your tongue, you shake your head. “Just a weird spell— I’m fine now. I want to see what’s in here.”

Falkner nods and doesn’t question you further. When you begin taking a few steps towards the edge of the protective light, his hand lands on the small of your back, a warm and gentle reminder that he’s here if you need him. The farther you step into the spacious hall, the further the light permeates— now, you can see odd carvings and paintings on the crumbling stone walls and bleeding into the floor, lines mimicking the letters you know but still remaining inexplicably illegible. Your fingertips stray from the shell of your egg to graze along the chilled designs; the moment you touch them, that strange vibration from earlier picks up again, tingling its way up your skull and making you wince back.

Shaking your head again, you step away from the wall and scramble to keep up with Falkner, who is wandering deeper and deeper into the dark. He keeps glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re with him, you’re okay; each time you meet his eyes, you flash a smile to assure him. You’re still here.

The farther you get into the ancient stone building, the more electricity seems to build in your veins. Despite the way it makes your skull vibrate, you can’t keep yourself from running your hands along the various engravings, moving your fingers over every dip and groove of the cold walls in an attempt to read them in the language they remind you of. You can almost convince yourself that you understand them— are you really reading the archaic words on the walls, or is something whispering their meanings directly into you?

“This is what got me interested in these ruins to begin with.” Falkner eventually slows to another halt; after checking that you’re still within arm’s reach, he stretches up to his full height, holding the dim lantern above his head and letting its light dance across the main attraction of today’s event.

The two of you have reached the very end of the vast room; now, you’re standing in front of a pair of crumbling pillars, and they surround what may’ve been an altar in past centuries. Falkner sets the lantern down on the flat surface, further illuminating the new set of carvings etched across the stone— the pattern of tiles reminds you of those sliding toy puzzles you’d play with as a child.

“We can stop by the research building after this,” Falkner begins, leaning closer to the tiles and gently pushing them across the surface, “because they’ve got all sorts of notes on these things. Nobody’s been able to figure out what they’re for, apparently.” He fumbles with the tiles for a bit longer, blindly sliding them in an apparent attempt to match up the faded lines of paint, but failing to produce results. Shrugging, he steps away from the panels to examine something else within the small pool of safety that the light provides.

You step closer to examine the odd puzzle yourself. Now that you’re looking closely, it’s exactly like those toys you used to play with— the lines over top seem as if they should form a picture if assembled properly, although the paint may be too faded to see what the end result is anyways. You rearrange the egg in your arms so that you can press your fingertips to the puzzle— in sharp contrast to the sheer cold covering the building’s walls, this set of stone is warm, and if you didn’t know any better then you’d think it was pulsing under your touch.

The vibration begins again, a pressure building at the base of your skull. As you drag your nails down the flaking paint, the sensation continues mounting in your head, until you almost think your teeth might rattle straight out of your skull— and then an image snaps into your mind as if that’s where it’s always belonged.

You drag one of the panels to the side, pushing another out of the way, shuffling them around and around on the altar— it’s difficult working with just one hand, but you manage. You’re vaguely aware of Falkner approaching you again, leaning over your shoulder to watch as you unscramble the puzzle, making more progress in mere moments than the researchers have made in months.

Finally, the last square slides into place. You stand up and nod approvingly at your work, although you don’t recognize whatever the painted image is— it seems to be a Pokémon, but it’s certainly not one you can name. You face Falkner with a grin. He tentatively smiles back “What are they paying those guys for?”

Before Falkner can respond, something on the altar flashes. The sudden light is intense, warm, thrumming against your skin in time with the pulsations in your skull, building to a crescendo within a heartbeat. You think Falkner shouts your name, but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears— and the ground begins crumbling beneath your feet. Nearly blinded by the light now, your hand stretches out into the white void, frantically searching for your friend as you try to scramble off the collapsing ground. 

What feels like his warm hand wraps around your wrist, and you try to latch on, but one of you fumbles. His hand slips out of your grasp, and you slip out of the gleaming brilliance and into the dark opening up below.


End file.
